


a room where the light won't find you

by illuminated_in_darkness



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 02:19:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9153193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illuminated_in_darkness/pseuds/illuminated_in_darkness
Summary: Rumplestiltskin kilt by childrenPeter Pan less than a manFears come to life. Two girls meet monsters. The monsters meet what they've been searching for.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This spawned from my desire to have more of OUAT Peter Pan, squandered by my fickle imagination. Loosely based on canon (emphasis on loosely). In all honesty, it's likely that I will never finish this fic. By some chance it does die, well . . . dying would be an awfully grand adventure.
> 
> Having disclaimed (THIS IS NOT MINE EXCEPT FOR WHAT IS), enjoy!
> 
> It's also unbetaed so all mistakes are mine.

"Ky," Belle pleaded. "Let's make a deal. I'll do anything you want."

Kyra laughed quietly and shook her head, wavy copper hair spiraling over her nightshift. She leaned back on the bed and hummed, closing her eyes. "No, you won't. Liar."

Belle pouted and whipped her braid into Kyra's face. She sputtered and sat up again, absentmindedly smoothing invisible creases. "Belle, you have a duty to attend. I do not."

Her friend smiled innocently. "But as my closest friend, is it not your responsibility to support me through such difficult endeavors?"

Kyra let out a very unladylike snort and tweaked Belle's nose. "Not when the only reason you wish to avoid the dance is Gaston. He is brutish and uncouth, true, but you are a lioness with claws that make even the strongest men bleed."

Belle sighed and began to undo her plait when Kyra's nimble fingers took over. They sat there in the rotunda, staring blankly at the rows of bookshelves covering the walls. Memorabilia and trinkets adorned the multiple desks and cosy reading chairs. 

"You have such a way with words," Belle said finally. "You should be the princess, not I. All I am good for is reading the words."

"And even that I cannot do," Kyra said gently. "Not well at any rate. You and I complement each other. But I will not show my face at any sort of public gathering, especially one rife with such dignitaries and powerful persons. There's bound to be tensions and magicks, and that is a realm I cannot venture in."

Belle hesitated before clasping her best friend's fingers within her own. "What happened to you, Kyra? We are of the same age---" Kyra quirked a self-deprecating eyebrow, but Belle pressed on--- "Yet I know you have experienced such darkness. Why do you flinch so often? Why do you shy from any magic? Is it because of a man?"

Kyra shuddered and the torch light seemed to flicker with her. "There are creatures in this world, Belle, that I am terrified of. No words are adequate enough for the terror they create. The destruction they cause. He . . ." She took a deep breath, eyes watery. "They should frighten you too."

Belle sensed the greater story looming over the two girls like a shadow, but decided that was for another time. Kyra had already shared so much. "I am sorry for the pain I have caused you in retelling this, my friend. Now, help me pick out which necklace I shall wear to the ball."

Kyra shot her a grateful grin and began a long-winded tirade on the pros and cons of each article of jewelry Belle possessed. 

 

 

The ball had only just begun when it was disturbed. "Sir!" a guard shouted, running toward Sir Maurice's side. Belle hovered worriedly by her father. The guard bowed lowly, sweating and panting. "There's . . . in the throne room . . . him." Sir Maurice yelled for his guards, who flanked him as he moved through the crowded ballroom. Puzzled guests tittered and whispered to each other behind gloved hands and fluttering fans.

"Go to your room and stay with Kyra," he ordered his daughter, who shook her head firmly. 

"I won't leave you, Papa," she replied stubbornly, easily keeping in pace with his long strides. Gaston joined them at the door, sword outstretched. 

"My liege," he said shortly, with a quick nod to Belle.

The short trip from the ballroom to the throne room was fraught with tension and an uneasy silence. When the guards slid the doors open, Belle watched her papa's face darken.  
"You," he spat. Belle peered from behind him, only to see the Dark One himself lounging on her father's throne. He lay there lazily sprawled on the ornate chair, tongue sliding across his lips in a reptilian grin. She realized all of a sudden that despite his crocodile skin, his face was much younger than the actual years he held. If not immortal, he could have not been more than thirty. 

"I received your message," he drawled. "Something along the lines of 'Help! Help! We're all dying! Please save us!'"

Gaston strode forward, face unusually solemn and sword out-stretched. Rumplestiltskin continued as if there wasn't a sword pointed in his direction. He stood up with the easy grace of a cat and batted the weapon away.

"My answer is yes. Yes I can save you. For a price, of course."

Sir Maurice stared at him for a long moment. Belle noted the many weary lines drawn on her father's face and swallowed. "We have gold. Jewels in our treasury. The greatest swordsmith on the continent."

The Dark One grinned, fingers swirling in the air. "I don't know if you've heard, dearie, but I . . . make gold. I have no want of your precious metals. I want something a bit more . . . special." He rolled the last word around in his mouth, slitted eyes alighting on Belle. "My price is her."

Gaston roughly threw his arm in front of Belle. If the situation had not been so dangerous, she would have rolled her eyes. As if his arm would have protected her from the Dark One.

"A counteroffer," a cloaked newcomer said, voice ringing from across the room. Belle's eyes widened at its familiarity. Everyone else looked at the figure who had not been there seconds earlier. "A sacrifice freely given."

Rumplestiltskin narrowed his eyes and hissed. "Who speaks?"

The cloaked person stepped forward, left hand trembling as it yanked her hood down. 

"Sacrifice freely given," Kyra repeated, voice now shaking.

"No," Belle whispered as the Dark One circled around her best friend predatorily. With one clawed finger, he stroked her flushed cheek.

"Sacrifice is a powerful thing, dearie," he said lowly. "So now you resurface. To protect the girl."

Kyra bravely squared her shoulders while the room's other occupants tried to piece together what was happening. "I do what I must."

Rumplestiltskin trilled delightedly. "Well, this is a pleasant surprise. You'll certainly be joining me, little one. But your sacrifice freely given has no import on the war this kingdom faces. A deal will be made, but a price must be . . . extracted." The knowing glance he sent over to Belle gave her the anger and strength to roll back her shoulders and step forward.

"I give you my word that I will go with you if you give your word that the people that I love . . . this kingdom I love will not be harmed."

"The deal is struck," he agreed gleefully.

"Belle, no," gasped Sir Maurice. "I cannot let you do this."

She held back tears as she gazed at her father. "It is my duty and my responsibility to do so. As a princess and a best friend. But I love you very much, papa."

Tears fell openly down Kyra's cheeks as the Dark One took her by the elbow. Belle took his arm and tried not to be repulsed by the scaly skin. Then the three disappeared in a puff of violet smoke.


End file.
